He lifted one foot and pulled off the boot. She gritted her teeth and grimaced with the effort to keep the phallus in. It slipped slightly and she pulled up harder. He lifted the other foot as sweat ran down her cheek. The second boot came off. She nearly cried with relief when she felt his hand push the rubber fully inside her again.
“Nicely done, Tricia. You’ve earned yourself a royal fucking.” Now able to balance herself, Patricia opened her legs as wide as the leather straps would allow. Marc pulled the dildo out and rammed it back in. She pushed her pelvis toward him with each thrust, not caring how lewd it looked. She wanted to come.
Suddenly, he stopped and pulled the dildo completely out. Nearly whimpering, she pleaded for him to keep going. “Marc, please, I’m burning up! I need to come!”
“Oh, my dear Patricia, it’s much too soon for that. You haven’t been strapped yet.”
“You’re going to fucking kill me, aren’t you?”
“No, darling. I’m going to make you feel more alive than you’ve ever been!” Marc unhooked the clips from her wristbands. Then he taunted her, promising complete freedom. “If you fondle my balls with loving sweetness, I’ll release your legs.”
Hoping he would unshackle her, Patricia put one hand on his chest and cupped his balls with the other. She gently caressed the soft sacks. Marc moaned softly each time she squeezed, the veins on his cock obviously pulsing. She ached with wanting him to fuck her!
Marc finally stopped her, taking her hand and kissing her fingers. Then he unbuckled the straps around her calves. “What’s your color, Patricia?”
“It’s still green! But I’m telling you right now, you had better have your cock in me soon, or it will be fire-truck red, and this whole dungeon scene will be over!”
“I have every intention of fucking you! My hard-on is purple, it needs it so bad. But I’m not frigging ready yet, Tricia. You will beg me for it, I swear to God, you will. Now, bend over the spanking bench and spread your legs wide.” Marc pointed to a sloped bench with a kneeler. “If you can maintain the position, I won’t strap you in. If you can’t or won’t, then the straps will be used.”
“I’ll hold it. You don’t have to strap me into the damned thing!”
“We’ll see.”
Patricia knelt on the leather padding and had a flashback of kneeling in a confessional when she went to Catholic school. “This thing is over the top! How bloody Freudian can you get? Maybe you should put on a collar and robes.”
Marc walked around to the front of the bench, where she could see him. He held a razor strap, almost identical to the one in her dream. “Recognize this?”
“Jesus Christ! Where did you get that?”
“Lenny found it for me. I described it to him and he found one.”
Patricia began trembling uncontrollably. “Marc, I need another shot.”
Without saying a word, Marc went to get the bottle and a shot glass. He handed her the glass and poured. She bolted it back and held it up for another. He poured again and then put the cap back on the bottle. “That’s enough. You want to feel this, don’t you?”
Patricia couldn’t deny the truth of what Marc said. “Yes, I want to feel it.” Before he had a chance to tell her to, she bent over the sloping part of the bench and spread her legs the width of the kneeler. Her dream filled her mind, and her pussy oozed with need.
The first stroke of the strap made her teeth grit. She grabbed the legs of the bench and held on. The second stroke would have brought her to her knees had she been standing. Marc did not hold back with the third and fourth swing. He strapped her with sadistic pleasure, grunting with his increasing arousal.
By the fifth stroke, she thought she might lose consciousness, but she did not cry yellow. Sensual delirium had replaced any concern for her well-being. She only wanted more sensation.
Somewhere in the fog of her arousal, she heard Marc’s voice. “Patricia, answer me! What is your color?”
She heard a voice laughing and suddenly realized it came from her. “You mother-fucking bastard! It’s fucking leprechaun green!”
Suddenly, heat surged deeply into her belly. Marc had mounted her from behind, shoving his cock so far in she thought surely it hit the back of her throat. “You’re my bitch, Tricia. Say it! Tell me you’re my bitch and beg me to fuck you!”
Marc didn’t move. With his prick buried inside of her up to his balls, he didn’t move. She screamed at him, “I’m your bitch, your slut, your whore! I’m whatever the hell you want me to be! Fuck me, you son of a bitch. Fuck my pussy and make me come!”
He pulled out and drove himself back in, putting his weight behind each thrust. With her ass up in the air on the slanted bench, his cock drilled her like a jackhammer. “Come for me, you bitch!” Marc reached under her and harshly rubbed her pussy lips with his hand. The unexpected pressure caught her unaware, and she pushed back against him. He pinched her clit and she squealed.
With strength she didn’t know she had, Patricia nearly knocked Marc backward as her orgasm seized her. He forced her to bend forward as she convulsed, pounding her with brutal force. His climax followed hers. As he emptied his balls into her, he growled, “Fuck, yes! You cunting bitch, yes!”
Marc’s thrusts finally slowed, and then stopped. Still holding her pussy in his hand, he rolled onto the floor and pulled her over with him. Unable to manage any sort of balance, Patricia fell on top of him. He held her tightly, and whispered into her ear, “Tricia, I’m glad you’re finally realizing how hot you are. And I’m glad you’re doing it with me.”
3
Patricia had just finished the paperwork left over from the day before when her assistant, Betty, buzzed her. “Patricia, Marc is on line three.”
Surprised that he would call her at the office, she picked up the phone. “Hello, Marc?”
“Good morning, Tricia.”
“You don’t usually call me here. Is everything okay?”
“Everything is fine. I wanted to make sure you are all right today.”
Patricia lowered her voice, just to make sure no one walking by her office would hear. “My ass is sore, but other than that, I am quite well today.”
“You know, if we ever have phone sex, you have to use that sultry voice. It’s hot as hell.”
Patricia smiled. Marc had never spoken to her like that before. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. Why aren’t you in session? You told me you were booked solid today.”
“My ten o’clock cancelled at the last minute, so I have an hour free. I wanted to ask you a couple of things.”
“What?”
“Did you have any dreams last night, like you have been having?”
Patricia hesitated and glanced at the open door to her office. “I really can’t talk about that here, Marc.”
“I understand. You don’t have to go into detail. I only want to know if there is any change.”
“There is.”
“Can you give me an idea of what?”
Practically whispering into the phone, Patricia told him. “I dreamed about you. The orgasm I had in my sleep woke me up. That has never happened before.”
“My dear, that tells me we are making progress, and that we are on the right track. Oh, and you just gave me a hard-on with that sexy voice.”
Patricia burst out laughing. “You are a piece of work! Speaking of which, I have to get back to work.”
“I’m sure you do. I know we aren’t scheduled for tonight, but I thought I would check with you anyway. Any chance?”
“Marc, I would like to, but I can’t. I have to get the quarterlies done by Friday.”
“Yeah, you told me that. I thought I would take a shot. Then, how about this? Friday night, you come to the loft and plan on spending the night.”
“Are you serious?”
“I wouldn’t ask if I weren’t.”
“Will you tell me what you’ve got planned?”
“No.”
“Well, in case you would
like to know, I’ve reconsidered something.”
“I’m listening.”
“Lenny. I might call green if he comes to the loft, but it is still red otherwise. Understood?”
“Oh, yes, very much understood. Then, you’ll come?”
“That’s up to you, isn’t it?”
Marc chuckled. “Let me rephrase that. Will you meet me at the loft on Friday?”
“I’ll be there. Do I bring my toothbrush?”
“No need to bring anything. I’ll supply everything you need. One thing you can do. Wear a garter belt this time with sheer black hose, and again, no panties.”
“You like this, don’t you?”
“Tricia, you’re not the only one exploring your shadow. I’ve become a bona fide spelunker, complete with a caver’s helmet and carbide lamp.”
“I’ll have to buy that piece of clothing.”
“Get a black one. And while you’re at it, a matching bra.”
Patricia’s assistant poked her head in the door and pointed to her watch. “Damn, Marc! I have to go. I’m late for a meeting.”
“That’s also progress. That means you lost track of time while talking to me. I’ll see you on Friday.” The phone clicked in Patricia’s ear. For the first time in her professional career, she walked into a partners’ meeting ten minutes late.
During the next two days, Patricia focused on her work, staying at her office for nearly fourteen hours both days. At ten o’clock Thursday night, she left her quarterly reports on the managing partner’s desk. After sending a quick e-mail to her assistant saying that she would be in late on Friday, she took a cab home.
Even feeling exhausted, Patricia lay awake for some time thinking about Marc. For as long as she had known him, she had never realized he could be so forceful and dominant. She had been too busy trying to control everything in her life to notice. It never occurred to her that he needed her acquiescence to show this side of himself. How totally fucked up had she been not to see it?
When the alarm went off at seven o’clock, Patricia rolled over and hugged her pillow. She didn’t remember falling asleep. It couldn’t possibly be morning already.
A dream about Marc floated in her head, a dream she wanted to continue. Then she remembered! Tonight she would be with Marc, and she would be spending the night with him. She threw the blankets off and jumped out of bed.
After taking a shower, she chose the sexiest, lowest-cut blouse she had, and matched it with a tailored black suit. Marc would no doubt have selected the costume of the day, but nonetheless, she wanted to look sexy for him. Before going to the office, she would shop for the garter belt, stockings, and bra, and put them on later. Maybe she could find a new pair of shoes to go with the lingerie.
By the time Patricia arrived at her office, it was well after eleven. She hadn’t realized the stores didn’t open until ten. Trying to put on her best pit-bull face, she got off the elevator.
Her attempt to walk in without being noticed or spoken to didn’t work. Earl saw her with her shopping bags and asked if Christmas had come early this year. One of the Generation X associates she had considered firing stopped her and told her how lovely she looked today. Even Betty wanted to know whose birthday she had missed.
By the time she got to her office, she knew the whole floor would soon be buzzing about her coming in late with Victoria’s Secret shopping bags and Charles David shoes. She didn’t care.
She had a lunch appointment with a client, which she almost forgot about. Betty reminded her. Grateful for the distraction, she spent a couple of hours at a fancy restaurant talking business, before returning to the office.
Finally, the day started to wind down. She had an hour before meeting Marc. She gathered her shopping bags and went to the ladies’ room to change before making the trip downtown.
She knew which button to press now; she didn’t have to look for it. Marc buzzed her in without saying anything. When she knocked on the door to the loft, her heart thumped in her chest.
The oddest thing happened when he opened the door. Neither of them said anything. They just stood there looking at each other. Marc had on a black Armani suit, a white shirt, and gold cuff links. He had not buttoned the first two buttons of his shirt, revealing the top part of his chest. She had the urge to brush his exposed chest hair with her fingertips.
Patricia still had her shopping bags. It should be obvious to Marc she had done what he asked. When he looked down at her feet and saw her shoes, he smiled. “Very nice, Tricia. You look lovely this evening.”
“Thank you. And you look like you stepped out of a James Bond movie.” Patricia tried to see behind Marc. “Are we alone?”
“For now.” Marc took her shopping bags and her purse. “Please, come in.” Feeling like Alice stepping through the looking glass, Patricia followed Marc into the loft.
She looked around for some clue about what the evening would bring. The room appeared neat and devoid of any evidence. Marc put her bags and purse in the closet and closed the door.
“No costumes tonight?” It surprised her to feel mildly disappointed.
“I’m wearing mine. You’re already wearing part of yours. The rest is hanging inside the bathroom door.”
“What is it?” She couldn’t imagine what he had dreamed up for tonight.
“You’ll know soon enough.” He squatted in front of her. “Let me see those shoes.” She lifted her foot and he held it in the palm of his hand. Turning her foot from side to side, he closely examined the black stiletto pumps she had bought. “How high are the heels?”
“Four inches.”
“Are they comfortable?”
“Actually, yes. The heel is a little wider than the boots you gave me. And the ankle strap holds them in place. I wore them here with no problem.”
“Good. Then we’ll use these instead of the ones I bought.”
“You bought me more shoes?”
“I told you I would supply everything you needed. I meant it.” Before he stood, Marc gripped the back of her leg and slid his hand up under her skirt. He didn’t stop when he reached the garter belt, but continued up to her ass. He watched her reaction when he tickled her pubic hair before removing his hand and standing. “Kudos, Patricia. You gave me exactly what I asked for and then some.”
“It’s good to know you appreciate it.”
“I do.”
“Are you going to tell me what is on the boards for tonight?”
“Eventually. Right now, tell me how you’re feeling.”
“Nervous.”
“Any more dreams?”
“Fragmented ones, nothing I remember very well.”
“Do you recall anything?”
“Just that you have been in them, and I woke up feeling really turned on.”
Marc unbuttoned her suit jacket and caressed her breast. “Do you like how that feels?”
“Yes.”
“That’s good, Tricia.” Marc took off her suit jacket and tossed it onto the back of the chair.
“You got more stuff in here. That’s new dining furniture. It’s beautiful! And bookshelves, too!” She looked in the corner where there had only been a sink, a coffeepot, a microwave and some cupboards a few days earlier. “You also got a refrigerator and a stove! This looks like a real apartment now.”
“Thank you. I cleared my afternoon to be here for the delivery yesterday. They put the bedroom furniture up there.” He pointed to an overhead mezzanine. “I’ve decided not to sell this place. I’m going to keep it.”
“You are?”
“There is a sense of freedom here, to do what we are doing. Don’t you agree?”
“I hadn’t thought about it, but I suppose you’re right.”
“It’s our private safe space, where we have no distractions. Speaking of which, is your BlackBerry off?”
“I turned it off in the taxi.”
“You have come a long way this week, Tricia. Tonight you will go farther.”
; “You’re making me feel like a mouse, and you’re the cat playing with me.”
“Then let me tease you some more. Shall I tell you a bit of what’s ahead?”
“If you don’t mind.”
“Philip noted a dream in your records about a French maid. Do you remember it?”
“Marc, you wouldn’t!”
“Oh, yes, Patricia, I would. Lenny should be here shortly. I asked him to bring along some food, so you can serve us dinner before we get down to business.”
“What is my costume?”
“Why, a French maid uniform, of course. Isn’t that what you described in your dream?”
“Christ, I saw that damn yogurt commercial before I went to bed one night. My subconscious took it and ran.”
Marc laughed. “Tricia, what you dreamed was no yogurt commercial.”
“Does Lenny understand the situation?”
“He does and he’s cool with it. He’ll only go as far as you want to go. If you call red, it stops.”
“Even if he’s really into it?”
“He would stop. I would see to it.”
“No shit! The man looks like a bodybuilder, his arms are huge! What would you do? Karate-chop him?”
“If I had to, yes, I would.”
“When the hell did you get so macho? You’re a bloody shrink, for God’s sake!” Marc said nothing. But Patricia saw him grit his teeth and knew she had hit a nerve. Goading him even more, she added, “I suppose you drink raw eggs for breakfast now.”
Ignoring her derision, Marc went to a cupboard in the kitchen area and took out a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. He poured himself a drink. Turning back to her, he raised his glass toward the bathroom door. “I suggest you go and change clothes now, unless you are calling red.” He sipped his whiskey and waited.
Patricia glared at him. But the glare became a stare when she really looked at him. Standing there in his Armani suit, holding a tumbler in his hand, she couldn’t stop the heat that moved through her body. She remembered the first time she saw him. The same thing had happened. With no conscious intent, she smiled. She wasn’t an ice queen anymore.
Bound to Ecstasy Page 12
